


maybe he loves him, too

by serendipitiness



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Gen, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Maryse Tries, Mother-Son Relationship, Motherhood, POV Maryse Lightwood, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 10:56:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10095488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serendipitiness/pseuds/serendipitiness
Summary: The Clave is not kind to those who are different. The Clave is a formula, and Alec, her oldest son, her greatest potential, her baby boy, her successor… he won’t fit.(or how Maryse Lightwood watches her children grow up and starts to change her mind about things, like the fact that maybe Magnus Bane isn't out to hurt her son)





	

Maryse Lightwood is not kind.

Her path has not been straight and paved, and she learned early on in life that trying her best wasn't enough, was never enough, because there would always be  _something_  in the way of her next step.

So she is ruthless and ambitious and careful. Her family and her name are her existence, her commitment to duty her strength, and every slight against her is an act of treason. It sounds extreme, she knows – she sees it in her husband’s face when he hears her speak – but it’s her truth.

She has moments, of course, in which her eyes grow soft when she tucks Max’s hair behind his ears. She offers praise that can make a person warm with pride, and when she smiles she is beautiful.

Most of all, she loves her family. Alec, too old too fast with his perpetual scowl. Izzy, free and joyous and entirely too much. Max, her baby, sweet and young and blameless still.

They are her own, her blood, and she reminds herself every day that she must raise them to be strong and brave and loyal. The life of a Shadowhunter is hard, any fault is a shortcoming, and she wants them to be perfect and ready to face the challenges that are sure to come.

But in raising them well she misses something. She teaches them to be independent, smart, and fast on their feet. She makes sure they can tell lies from truth, that they are never fooled by the people around them who want to hurt them because they are Lightwoods. She shows them how to be strong in mind and strong in body, and because of this, they can see.

Maryse keeps her mistakes close to her breast, tucked in a secret place you cannot see because mistakes are weaknesses, and she is not weak. But she knows herself, knows her flaws, and since she’s taught her children well, when they look carefully enough they can see a dent in her armor.

They still ask for her smiles and seek her approval (one of them, at least), but there is a distance between them, an inch that grows into a mile too quickly when they realize that their mother isn’t always right.

***

She first begins to lose them, she thinks, when Jace comes along. She raises him like her own, but he fights it more than Isabelle does, the words of a parent coming from a stranger bouncing off his skin. He chafes under her watch, his irritation bubbling and bursting until it starts to infect Alec and Isabelle. She sees it when Alec no longer runs to her for advice, turning instead to the child who has become a Shadowhunter prodigy. She sees it when Isabelle follows her adopted brother out and comes back with her hair in disarray and the smell of vodka on her breath.

She tells herself that it’s fine – they are still young, and when they grow up and have children of their own, they will understand why she is how she is. She has to keep them safe, and this is the only way she knows how.

Maryse tells herself this a lot, when she yells and Isabelle glares and Jace tells her to shut up. Alec just stands in the back, his frown growing ever deeper.

***

Her children are older, almost adults, when she first feels true fear for them – for him. Maryse is watching Jace and Alec train, both still trying to fit into bodies that grew too fast (where did Alec inherit that height from?), when Jace knocks Alec down with a hard blow to his side and steps over him, pointing the end of his staff to Alec’s throat. For a beat, the boys stare at one another, blue and brown and hazel clashing, before Jace laughs, reaching down and pulling Alec up into a sweaty hug.

The look on Alec’s face…

His back is hunched so that he can rest his head on Jace’s shoulder, his arms tight around the boy’s waist, and the soft smile of contentment on his face is so sweet that Maryse has to clench her fists to fight the urge to tear them apart.

No no no, her darling boy can’t be…

She peers at his expression again as he stands there with his parabatai and she knows he is.

Her heels clack against the tile as she speeds out of the training room, ignoring the questioning stares. The buzz in her ears overwhelming as she collapses into her room.

She holds her head in her hands, feels tears leak out of her eyes for the first time since Robert had confessed about Annamarie Highsmith. This hurts far more.

 _He can’t be he can’t be he can’t be_ …

She doesn’t let the word fully form in her brain.

The Clave is not kind to those who are different. The Clave is a formula, and Alec, her oldest son, her greatest potential, her baby boy, her successor… he won’t fit.

Her heart tears a sure-fire bullet in her chest, her breath is shallow, because Alec, who still looks at her with faith in his eyes, whose quiet charisma charms those around him without him realizing, who can be a better head of the Institute than she could ever be…

He, who smiles so rarely and has inherited her disdain for those who do not belong…

He will suffer.

Maryse, so closely entwined with the Clave, knows he will hurt. If they find out, they will tear him apart, belittle him and malign him until he shrinks and disappears. He is already so careful, so self-conscious, that their pointing fingers and cruel words

_you’re sinful_

_you’re abnormal_

_you’re unacceptable_

will tear him to pieces and leave ragged shreds for her to sew together.

She doesn’t even know if she can.

She doesn’t know if anybody can.

***

Her children grow up and grow close without her. Maryse can see it in their eyes when they look at her, standing before her in a straight line, waiting for orders from their leader, not their mother. They are loyal still – oh, Alec – but there is little affection in their gaze or warmth in their words.

Alec… For once in her life, Maryse doesn’t know what to do, and so she does nothing, unsure of how to help, what to say, because this is out of her control.

Maybe if she stays quiet and acknowledges nothing, it will go away.

Maybe, but probably not.

***

Maryse doesn’t like Lydia Branwell. At first it’s because she’s an envoy who ends up replacing the Lightwoods at the head of the Institute, then it’s because she’s the once-married woman Alec decides to tie himself to.

In the end, Maryse realizes she doesn’t like Lydia because she reminds her too much of herself when she was younger, before everything went to hell. There is cockiness in her gaze, an abrasiveness in her personality, and something akin to compassion in her manner. She is Maryse before Robert, before Annamarie, before hard decisions and exile and children who don’t smile.

So no, she doesn’t like her, but she can accept her for Alec.

She tells Alec she’s proud of him, and she is, because he’s the only one of her children to understand pragmatism and responsibility. He is handsome in his gold jacket and bow tie, her boy now a man at the altar. Perhaps it’s true that he’s forgotten his infatuation, and Maryse frowns, then smiles in relief.

Alec, married, and heading up the Institute. Shadowhunter grandchildren. It’s a beautiful thought.

She settles into her chair and smiles at Robert.

But footsteps come down the aisle in the middle of the ceremony, slashing a hole in her contentment, and the breach widens at the sight of Magnus Bane, dressed in a ridiculous velvet jacket with  _pink_  in his hair. She’s seen him more in the past few weeks than she has for the previous two decades, and it’s already too much. A downworlder, a warlock, an aberration, and not only that, a moral reprobate whose only usefulness comes from his demon blood. He's the type of downworlder that Maryse and the Clave can't stand, the ones who bask in ill-born power without any right to it. Who is Magnus Bane to come in at a moment like this, and…

She sees Alec's eyes, wide and luminous and  _glued_  to Magnus.

Oh, no.

The first time had been terrible, a realization that had torn her apart, but this is infinitely worse, so much worse in every way, and Maryse wants to  _kill_ Magnus. She wants her broadsword for this, to slice through demon and bone and sinew and get him away from her son, because he will destroy Alec.

A man – a man is not the problem, because she sees the way things are changing, she sees glances shared between Shadowhunter boys when they think no one's looking, brief touches between girls that are too familiar to be platonic. Maryse has seen her own son look at Jace like that for so long that, even if she hasn't told him she knows, she does and it's okay because it's him, it's her child.

But this... this is impossible.

Her only available weapons are her words, but her sharp reprimands fall on deaf ears - her authority means nothing because all they can see is each other.

Standing next to Magnus, she can see a look of fierce concentration on his face directed at Alec. Magnus says  _this is between me and your son_  and Maryse wonders, when?

When did this happen, that they were close enough to have a between? What spell has the warlock cast, what potion has he brewed to entice her boy to him, to wreck his future and the Lightwood name? Is he so cruel that his vendetta against her is being exacted on her son?

A scream bubbles in her throat, and she wants to hurt Magnus, to gouge her fingers into his cat eyes, to protect Alec from him. She tries, but Alec’s harsh _enough_ stops her in her tracks. She feels the rush of air as her as Alec strides past her and –

Alec kisses Magnus.

Oh gods, she is numb, and around her she hears rustling and horrified whispers and all she can see is Alec, eyes shut, hands grasping the lapels of Magnus' jacket, closed off to everybody, reserving his attention and his mouth and his future for Magnus Bane.

The volume rises around her as Clave representatives stare, shocked and gleeful at this turn in fortune for the Lightwoods. Idris loves gossip, and she knows she's watching the story of the decade unfold in front of her.

She sees the image she had crafted in her head, of Alec and Lydia in the Institute with hazel-eyed children, disintegrate into smoke. She sees Alec on the doorstep of the Institute, pale and rune-less, abandoned by the Clave for who he is.

All because of Magnus Bane, who's undoubtedly playing Alec for a fool, dipping his toes into Nephilim waters to distract himself for a millisecond.

When she sees them standing together in the ops room, she's prepared to throw Magnus out, to do something to get him away, to blame him for everything. Then she sees the soft, contented look in Alec's eyes, a look she hasn't seen in years, and she stutters, stops, because  _how can he not understand?_

Somehow, her scolding turns to him instead, and her heart breaks a little more as she watches his gaze harden, as he defends his actions when all she wants to do is defend him. Can't he see that he's ruining his future, that no matter how loyal to the Clave he is,  _this_  will define him for the rest of his life?

Magnus is a downworlder, an animal, a mistake in every way. He’s charmed Alec, but how long will it take before he turns his back on her son for another boy, a girl, a vampire, a Seelie?

(Maryse doesn't know how to feel about that strange, tender stare that Magnus directs at her son - she chooses to ignore it.)

***

For the first time, Maryse is nervous about speaking with Alec.

In the past few weeks, her anger has come down from a boil to a slow simmer, a mother’s anxiousness taking its place instead. How can she talk to him, when she knows he’s taken every accomplishment of his and thrown it into the sea in exchange for a painful road, when he’s fallen in with someone who will throw him away? Does she tell him that she’s been back to Idris, felt hateful eyes follow her, heard whispers about the demon-loving Lightwood boy, seduced by Magnus Bane?

Maryse doesn’t know, so she uses Max and his rune ceremony as a safeguard, a shield behind which she can hide. Then Alec shares that the ceremony will be hosted by Magnus, and Maryse needs to close her eyes for a moment.

Even though she’d intended to keep quiet, it goes against her nature. When she says, “I don’t want to fight with you,” she knows she’s doing it already.

She doesn’t like the way he brings up Magnus, the bright shine in his eyes when he mentions the warlock’s name, the stubbornness in his voice when he argues. He’s never been so enamored, so distracted from the mission, and it scares Maryse because when Magnus casts him aside, he will hurt so much. Her son is strong but sensitive, and she can see he is fully devoted to… this. To the warlock, the downworlder whose promiscuity is well-renowned through the ages.

For now, Maryse relents. She’ll be at the party, because it’s for her children. For Max, who is growing up too quickly for her liking. For Isabelle, who has little interest in talking to her. For Jace, who rightly hates her. And for Alec, who she’ll try and cradle in her arms when he gets discarded. Her children. In the whirlwind of chaos that’s been her life for the past few months, they’re all she can hold on to.

***

When the night finally comes to an end, there are only a handful of moments that she can recall.

She remembers, early in the evening when Magnus offered a gift to Max, the fondness in Alec’s eyes as he gazed at the warlock, kneeling on the ground in front of his little brother. He had been smiling – nothing forced, like she’s often seen recently, but instead completely natural and sweet. Maryse hasn’t seen him look that way at anybody for years, and it made her a little breathless to know that the gentle, smiling child she used to know still lives in Alec.

She remembers the shock on Max’s face and the unintentional turn in her gut at the sight of Magnus’ cat eyes. From behind her, there’d been a sharp inhale from Alec, fascination and reverence obvious on his face.

She remembers waking up in a fog and hearing Jace’s accusations, feeling them pierce her skin, before running outside to see Alec slumped on the ground, Magnus Bane crouched over him, expression grim as he presses a hand to Alec’s throat. He says, “It’s okay,” but even in her terror Maryse can hear the thickness in his voice as he watches over her son with tenderness she didn’t know warlocks were capable of.

The moments are short, but they float in her mind throughout the night.

***

Is she wrong?

Is she wrong about Alec? About Magnus?

He is half-demon, half-man. She has looked down upon the demon side for all her life, hated it, and yet…

Will he stay with her son, gaze upon him with the same sweet tenderness that her son offers to him? Will he hold onto Alec and stick by him through the scrutiny of the Clave and the protests of fellow downworlders?

Will he be there after a week? A month? A year?

The way Magnus looked at Alec was not the look of someone who was planning on leaving. It was the look of someone who had tumbled head over heels into something unplanned, into something unexpectedly wondrous, and was holding on tight for fear of it flying away.

She can still see, clear as crystal in her head, the closeness they shared. The quick glances and secret touches. The open affection with which Alec looked at Magnus.

The happiness on Alec’s face.

She thinks…

Maybe she is wrong.

***

Maryse takes a moment to herself in her room after Max’s ceremony. Her heart has stopped pounding, and she feels strangely content, despite Valentine and the Soul Sword and Robert.

Her sons, for the first time in a long time, might be at peace with her. She can still hear the rumble of Jace’s chuckle and feel Alec’s arms wrapped around her, soothing and heavy and perfect.

When she goes, she stands on her toes as her sons bow their heads, letting her kiss them on the forehead. She cups Jace’s cheek with her palm and squeezes Alec’s hand.

She does not bring up Magnus before she leaves. She still does not approve, and she likely never will, but for now, she lets it be.

No, Maryse Lightwood is not kind.

But sometimes she tries.

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure where this came from, beyond maybe a slight obsession with the woman who fantastically plays Maryse?
> 
> I like to think that, above all else, Maryse is a mother who wants her children to be happy.
> 
> She comes across hateful in the show in many ways, but I don't think we get a chance to understand why. The Clave is a stickler for convention - for heterosexuality, for hating anything to do with the downworld, etc. Maryse has lived and breathed those ideas for decades, but I want to believe that her children can be the ones to change her mind.
> 
> Update: come hang w/ me on tumblr [ @s-erendipitiness](https://s-erendipitiness.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Of course, it's entirely possible that she'll come off as an ass again in future episodes. Who knows?
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading! Comments, kudos, and all that jazz are much appreciated!


End file.
